


Safe in Your Hands

by shions_heart



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, in which Kyoutani realizes he has a massive crush on Yahaba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-08 06:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5487170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shions_heart/pseuds/shions_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyoutani wears eyeliner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based on the new anime reference photos of Kyoutani Kentarou and this passage of his wikia description:
> 
> "His eyes are sharp and appear fierce and hostile (he almost appears to be wearing eyeliner, or has dark bags beneath his eyes), and he has small eyebrows."
> 
> I usually go with eye bags, but today I wanted to write eyeliner.
> 
> Enjoy!

"No son of mine is going to wear eyeliner like a damn fairy."

Kyoutani frowns, his dad's words ringing in his ears. He steps onto the train, taking a seat near the back the way he always does. The girl with blue streaks in her hair gives him a faint smile. She pulls open her book-bag and withdraws her eyeliner and a compact mirror. She hands them over to him, and he nods in thanks.

"That's a nice bruise you've got there," she says, gesturing to her own cheekbone. "Did you get into a fight?"

"Something like that," Kyoutani says gruffly. He doesn't feel like sharing more. Although the two of them share a commute on his way to Aoba Johsai, he's never asked for her name, and she's never asked for his. Their relationship doesn't extend past her allowing him to use her eyeliner every morning before school. It started when she noticed him watching her apply it. She offered it to him, and he'd taken it. After he'd shakily applied it, she told him he looked "tough," which pleased him. Ever since then she let him use her eyeliner, noting that he's gotten better at applying it, though his lines still seem uneven to him.

He sinks back in his seat, opening the compact and using the small mirror to carefully line his eyes with the black ink. She nods appreciatively, as he hands them both back to her once he's done.

"I think that's your best try yet," she tells him, smiling.

His lips twitch, but he simply nods and turns to look out the window. His reflection in the glass glares back at him. The bruise on his cheekbone looks dark, but as he deepens his glare, he notices that the intensity of his eyes with the eyeliner detracts from the mark. He hopes that people will be intimidated by his eyes enough to look away before they see the bruise.

He should've expected it not to work on Yahaba, though.

"What happened to you?" the second year asks, narrowing his eyes at Kyoutani's face.

"None of your fucking business," he growls, slipping past him to make it to the club room. Thankfully Yahaba doesn't persist in questioning him, but Kyoutani remains wary throughout the rest of the practice.

 

Two weeks later, he misses his train.

It was for the stupidest reason. He'd forgotten to take the trash out. A simple mistake. He was attempting to rectify it, when his father decided to go on a tirade, cussing him out and calling him "ungrateful" and "pansy" and other such words. Kyoutani stared down at the floor, curling his hands into fists and wishing he had the courage to say or do something, anything.

But he's a coward, so he didn't.

And now he has to run to school, which means no eyeliner to toughen his looks, to distract from the still healing bruise on his cheekbone that's now turned a sickening yellow-green color. Needless to say, he's in a very sour mood by the time he gets to practice. People have been giving him second glances in class and in the hallways, and he wants to punch a wall, but he grits his teeth and walks straight past his teammates to the club room.

"Hey!" Yahaba calls after him.

Kyoutani ignores him.

He feels a hand on his arm and quickly wrenches away. Turning, he glares at Yahaba, who holds up both hands defensively.

"Whoa, hey, down boy. I just wanted to see if you're okay. I can tell something's off."

"I'm fine." Kyoutani keeps his words clipped short, turning away from Yahaba to peel off his shirt. He's conscious of Yahaba's eyes watching him, so he quickly pulls on his jersey, hoping he didn't catch the other bruises on his back.

"You look different." Yahaba's voice is lightly curious, but Kyoutani stiffens, hunching inward.

"No, I don't."

"Yeah, your eyes look different. Can I see?" There's a brush of fingers against Kyoutani's shoulders. Before he can really think about it, Kyoutani finds himself turning around to frown at Yahaba. Yahaba's wide brown eyes widen further in surprise. Then he grins faintly.

"Kyoutani-kun, do you usually wear eyeliner?" he asks.

Kyoutani immediately scowls, curling his hands into fists. The last thing he needs today is Yahaba ridiculing him on top of everything else. He growls low in his throat, darkening his glare as best he can.

"You have a problem with that?" he asks, doing his best to keep his voice from cracking. "You think it's dumb or something, right? You think it's girly. Stupid. Go on. Say it. I know you're thinking it."

Yahaba regards him thoughtfully a moment, his lips pursed. "Wait here," he says, gesturing vaguely with his hand, before exiting the clubroom.

Kyoutani stands still, stiff and silent, blinking at the door. He's not sure what's going on, but his curiosity is piqued, so he remains where he is until Yahaba comes back, waving a small black stick in his hand.

"Did you know Oikawa likes to experiment with makeup? He's quite good, actually. Has a youTube channel and everything. You should check it out."

"Like I'm going to go out of my way to look at that guy more than I have to already," Kyoutani grunts.

Yahaba grins, and he appears to be fighting a laugh. "Okay, hold still," he says, stepping closer and raising the eyeliner toward Kyoutani's face.

Kyoutani leaps back immediately, slamming against the shelves behind him with a wince. Yahaba freezes, his lips parting slightly. Heat rushing to Kyoutani's face, and he feels like an idiot. Yahaba bites his lip, looking from the eyeliner to Kyoutani.

"I'm just going to help you apply this. Is that okay?" his voice is soft, almost gentle, and Kyoutani bristles.

"Of course it's okay," he snaps, his chest aching, though he's not sure why.

Yahaba looks skeptical, but he moves forward again. He seems wary, like he's afraid Kyoutani will bite his hand off if he gets too close. But Kyoutani keeps still, his muscles trembling from the tension coiling through him. Lightly, Yahaba places his fingers against Kyoutani's eyelid, propping it open, as his other hand rests just barely against Kyoutani's cheek. The eyeliner gets closer, and Kyoutani resists the urge to recoil. Very carefully, Yahaba runs the tip of the pencil along Kyoutani's lower lid.

Kyoutani watches Yahaba's face, seeing the pinch of concentration tightening his features. He purses his lips, breathing quietly through his nose. Kyoutani can feel it against his face, their proximity is that close. He feels hot, there's a burning sensation low in his stomach, but he's not sure why or what to do about it, so he simply remains frozen, a statue of nerves and confusion. Yahaba's hands are gentle on his face, and the pencil never wavers too close to his eye.

Once Yahaba is done with the one, he moves on to the other. This time his tongue pokes out between his lips just slightly, and Kyoutani's knees feel weak. He curls his hands into fists, pressing them back against the shelves, opening them then to grasp at the wood. It creaks beneath his hands, but neither he nor Yahaba flinch at the sound. Yahaba pauses, but only briefly, before he continues.

It seems like twenty years have passed by the time Yahaba pulls away with a satisfied nod. Kyoutani feels lightheaded from the heat pulsing through him, and he doesn't extract himself from the shelves. Instead, he stares at Yahaba, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, wondering why the hell his body is betraying him like this.

"Aren't you going to check to make sure I did it right?" Yahaba asks with a laugh. His voice seems a little strained, a little breathless, though Kyoutani doesn't know what to make of that.

Slowly, he steps away from the shelves, making his way over to the mirror that Oikawa set up near his "area." None of them are really allowed in that space, but Kyoutani doesn't care. He stares at himself in the mirror, noticing immediately how much smoother and more even Yahaba's lines are. The black frames his eyes in a way that's almost appealing, though it also lends to his tough exterior just the way he likes it.

It's weird. This is weird.

He turns away from the mirror, quickly changing into his gym shorts and shoes. Yahaba lingers by the shelves, twirling the eyeliner between his fingers.

"That's it? No thank you?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Kyoutani grunts, standing and making his way toward the door. He still feels flushed and nervous, so he doesn't acknowledge Yahaba's sarcastic "holy shit Yahaba-kun, your lines are so perfect! thank you so much!" even though the way he lowers his voice to a gravelly register sounds nothing like him.

None of his other teammates say a word about the eyeliner, though they surely noticed how much better the lines look. And after practice, Yahaba finds him rinsing it off in the boys bathroom. He appears startled, maybe even a little hurt.

"You're washing it off?" he asks, his voice tight.

Kyoutani glances at him and then back at the mirror, scrubbing at his eyes with a piece of wet paper towel. "My dad'll kill me," he mutters.

Yahaba says nothing to this, simply does his business. When he returns to the sinks to wash his hands, he turns his gaze to Kyoutani in the mirror. "Well, this probably seems self-centered to say, considering I'm the one who applied it, but you looked really great."

Kyoutani narrows his eyes, half-expecting Yahaba to be teasing him. It seems genuine, though that only confuses him further. With a smile and a tiny wave, Yahaba leaves the bathroom, throwing away the paper towel he used to dry his hands. Kyoutani stares after him, feeling a weird twisting feeling in his gut that's not altogether unpleasant.

The next day, he shakes his head at the blue-haired girl when she offers him her eyeliner. She blinks in surprise.

"Did you finally get your own?" she asks, looking pleased.

"Something like that," he admits, not sure why the back of his neck feels warm. He rubs at it and looks away out the window.

He goes to find Yahaba before school starts. He's talking with Watari, so Kyoutani lingers back, waiting until Yahaba seems to sense his stare and turns around. He raises his eyebrows, regarding Kyoutani with curiosity.

"Can I help you with something, Kyoutani-kun?"

Kyoutani stuffs his hands into his pockets, scuffing his foot against the ground. He glowers at it, wishing Watari would go away, or at least stop watching everything with interest.

"Can you . . . do it again?"

Watari begins coughing, and Yahaba's face pinkens. He turns to give Watari a look, but his teammate just grins at him, holding up his hands.

"I think my phone is ringing. I'll catch you later, Yahaba," he says, turning and hurrying away.

Yahaba sighs, turning back to Kyoutani. "What exactly are you asking me to do?" he asks, his smile strained.

Kyoutani lifts his head, blinking at Yahaba, before gesturing to his eyes. "What . . . you did yesterday."

Yahaba laughs, relieved. "Oh! That!" He places his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Kyoutani-kun, do I look like a personal assistant to you?"

Kyoutani frowns, curling his fists in his pockets. His heart twists painfully in his chest, and he takes a step back. "Forget it," he mutters, turning away and wondering why he thought Yahaba would want to help him again. It was stupid. He's so stupid.

"Kyoutani, wait," Yahaba says from behind him.

There's a brush of a hand at his elbow, and Kyoutani freezes, though he doesn't look over at Yahaba.

"I was kidding." Yahaba's voice is quiet, apologetic. "Meet me in the boy's bathroom in ten minutes, okay? I have to go get it."

Kyoutani hesitates, before pulling one hand out of his pocket, revealing the stick he'd already bought the previous afternoon. Yahaba blinks at it before grinning slightly. He takes it with a nod.

"All right, then. Let's go."

Kyoutani doesn't admit it out loud, he doesn't think he ever could, but as he stands in the boy's bathroom before classes start and watches Yahaba's face as his hands rest gently against his skin, he feels safe. There's a warm feeling in his stomach this time, not quite as hot and disconcerting as the previous day. Yahaba talks this time as he works, rambling about something he learned in History, and his voice is normal. Not lilting in an imitation of Oikawa's grating voice, not teasing. It makes Kyoutani's pulse even out, it makes the nerves tightening his chest loosen, and when Yahaba steps back with a satisfied nod, Kyoutani has to resist the urge to reach out and pull him close again.

Instead, he turns toward the mirror, studying his reflection and the dark lines surrounding his eyes.

"Here," Yahaba says, holding out the eyeliner.

Kyoutani shakes his head. "My dad will blow a fuse if he finds out I have that."

Yahaba huffs. "So I'm supposed to keep it for you? And what? You'll come find me to do this again every morning?"

Kyoutani shifts his gaze over to Yahaba's reflection in the mirror. "Is that okay?" he asks gruffly, rubbing his palms against his thighs.

Yahaba starts, his eyes widening for just a moment, before he grins faintly. "Sure. Why not? I'm better at this than you anyway. We can't have you walking around looking like a raccoon, now can we?"

Kyoutani feels his lips twitch. It's strange. He wants to smile back at Yahaba, but it feels weird. He shakes his head instead, biting the inside of his cheek.

He's already looking forward to tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this now has a second chapter . . .
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't mean for this to turn into a multi-chaptered thing but . . . here we are . . .
> 
> This is Takei's fault. They're an enabler.

Yahaba stands just inside the boys' bathroom, staring at himself in the mirror. He absently taps his fingers against the countertop near the sink, before glancing at his watch. It's 08:15. They have fifteen minutes before the bell rings to signal the start of class. Kyoutani generally isn't late, but lately Yahaba has noticed that he seems more stressed and harried in the mornings when they meet. Yahaba knows better than to ask him about it, since he's fairly certain all he'll receive is a grunt or angry reply. But Yabaha isn't stupid. He knows that Kyoutani comes from a rough neighborhood and an even rougher home. It makes his gut clench painfully to think of it, but for some reason he has a difficult time _not_ thinking of it these days, wishing he could do something to help.

He can't pinpoint the exact moment his feelings for Kyoutani shifted from that of simple regard for his teammate to something stronger, deeper. All he knows is that one day Kyoutani spiked a toss with his usual aggression, and when he turned to Yahaba with a nod of satisfaction at the toss, silently telling Yahaba "yes that was a good one," Yahaba felt a fluttering in his chest and a warmth that spread from it up his neck toward his ears.

Thankfully Kyoutani didn't seem to notice, and Yahaba has managed to keep a close lid on these rather inconvenient feelings. Only Watari seems to suspect, and that's just because his friend is observant and knows Yahaba well after so much time spent together.

"So when are you going to tell Kyoutani-kun you like him?" he asked one day, catching Yahaba so off-guard he almost walked into a lamppost.

Quickly readjusting, Yahaba turned to frown down at Watari. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Watari laughed. "Don't worry, you're not obvious about it. But I can tell. Lately you've been watching him differently. There's this look you get. It's softer than your usual observing look."

Yahaba had felt self-conscious and staunchly denied having any such look, but the next time he saw Kyoutani, he caught himself relaxing his features, almost smiling fondly. He'd been rather horrified at himself. Of all the people in his school, why did he have to start having these feelings for _Kyoutani_ of all people? The guy hated him. He was difficult to work with and frustrating as hell to talk to. The fact that he was rather handsome, fit, and smelled consistently like cinnamon wasn't enough to make Yahaba overlook those aspects of his personality.

Though after the incident with the eyeliner, Yahaba's has to admit that he's learning more about Kyoutani and finding that maybe the guy doesn't hate him after all. And maybe he's difficult and frustrating for valid reasons, reasons that Kyoutani might one day open up about to Yahaba, if he's patient and gentle.

And Yahaba doesn't mind being patient or gentle with Kyoutani. He feels like these are things Kyoutani doesn't experience very often at home or with anyone else, so it make sense that he'd be gruff and prickly. He's starting to grow more comfortable around Yahaba, though.

At least, he doesn't shy away from Yahaba's touch as often these days.

The bathroom door bursts open, and Yahaba glances over to see Kyoutani panting heavily in the doorway. He's sporting a new wound: a small cut and bruise near his eye, close to his temple. Yahaba's chest twinges painfully, but he doesn't mention it. He knows by now that outright asking about Kyoutani's frequent injuries is the quickest way to get Kyoutani to retreat. He has to work around the subject, subtly bring it up when Kyoutani's relaxed and has let his guard down.

"You're late," he says now.

"Fucking train was late," Kyoutani mutters. "Had to run."

His uniform is rumpled, though it looks clean. Yahaba wonders if he does his own laundry.

"We only have a few minutes," Yahaba says, gesturing for Kyoutani to come closer. He pulls the stick of eyeliner out of his book-bag, brandishing it in the air.

Kyoutani has grown accustomed to this ritual these past few weeks, and he steps up immediately to place himself beneath Yahaba's raised hand. Very carefully, Yahaba rests his wrist against Kyoutani's cheek to steady it, using his other hand to gently hold open his eye. As always, he can feel Kyoutani's dark eyes watching him, his gaze flickering over his face as if searching for something. Yahaba keeps his features impassive, revealing nothing. The last thing he needs is to spook Kyoutani with evidence of his affection. He's not sure what the guy would do if he knew Yahaba liked him, but Yahaba can't think of any good reactions realistically, especially considering what he's surmised concerning Kyoutani's home life.

He begins carefully, running the tip of the stick along Kyoutani's lower eyelid, going over it a couple times to darken it. Kyoutani remains completely still, like he always does, a complete statue. His skin is warm beneath Yahaba's hands, flushed from his run. Yahaba's heart pounds quickly in his chest, and he bites his lip, attempting to keep his breaths even so Kyoutani won't catch on to his nervousness.

Kyoutani's gaze drops to his lips. It lingers only for a second, but Yahaba notices it and feels his ears warm. The sensation spreads to his face, and he quickly releases his lip, tucking his teeth back where they belong. The silence has become oppressive, and Yahaba feels a pull in his gut. He finds himself leaning forward, his hands hovering on either side of Kyoutani's face. Kyoutani's eyes widen, but he doesn't back away, simply continues to stand there, watching Yahaba in shock.

_Am I really doing this? Am I really about to kiss Kyoutani?_

Yahaba never finds out if he is or not, however, because the bell rings shrilly, startling them both. Yahaba jumps back, shaking himself out of whatever haze had come over him. Kyoutani reaches out quickly and grabs the eyeliner out of Yahaba's slackened grasp. Turning toward the mirror, he finishes his eyes before flinging the stick back at Yahaba, rushing out of the room in the same movement. The eyeliner smacks Yahaba in the face, and he hastens to catch it before it falls.

Staring down at it blankly, the bell's echoes still ringing in his ears, Yahaba wonders if that answers the question of if he should tell Kyoutani his feelings for him.

 

***

 

Kyoutani doesn't show up for his eyeliner appointment the next morning, or the next, for an entire week. Yahaba feels sick to his stomach each time he stands in the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror, waiting until the bell rings, and he's forced to go to class. When he sees Kyoutani at practice, the boy seems to go out of his way to avoid Yahaba, and Yahaba's surprised by how much that hurts.

So naturally he buries the feeling and concentrates on perfecting his tosses.

"You're quiet today," Watari observes as Yahaba breaks to get water. "Did something happen with Kyoutani?"

Yahaba shrugs. "Nothing new. He still hates me as per usual."

Watari grins faintly. "He doesn't hate you. He's watching you right now."

Yahaba's somewhat ashamed at how quickly he glances over toward his teammate across the gym. Their eyes meet only briefly, before Kyoutani looks away with a scowl. Yahaba's stomach flutters. That's not Kyoutani's angry scowl. It appears to be closer to his embarrassed one. Watari nudges him.

"Go practice with him," he prompts.

Yahaba gives him a look. "You're the worst friend ever."

"You mean the best friend ever."

Sighing, Yahaba sets down his water bottle and squares his shoulders. Grabbing a volleyball from the bin, he walks over to where Kyoutani is standing.

"Come on, let's practice your receives," he says, as casually as possible.

Kyoutani blinks, seeming surprised that Yahaba is speaking to him. He glances around briefly, and Yahaba has to laugh.

"Yes, I'm talking to you," he says, nodding. "Come on. You gotta work on your defense."

Kyoutani hesitates, so Yahaba simply turns around and walks over to a spot on the court where there's open space. Kyoutani follows him at a short distance, and when Yahaba turns around, he sees him standing there with his usual grumpy expression, though he seems a little lost. Yahaba decides that the best thing to do is act like nothing ever happened, so he shakes his head at Kyoutani with a faint grin.

"Is that how you stand ready to receive a ball? Are you a volleyball player or not?" he keeps his voice light, gently teasing, and it has the desired effect.

Kyoutani grunts, rolling his eyes. "Shut up and serve the ball," he says, planting his feet a little wider than his shoulders and bending his knees.

Yahaba's grin widens, and he tosses the ball in the air, smacking it down toward Kyoutani, who takes a step forward in order to bump it back up. Yahaba gets beneath it, setting it back up and over to Kyoutani, who has to shift to the side this time.

"That was off," he tells Yahaba, as if he didn't already know that.

Yahaba frowns, this time spiking the ball down as hard as he can when it reaches him. Kyoutani has to dive to get it, and the ball hits against the side of his fist, sailing off toward the wall. He turns his face toward Yahaba with a scowl. Yahaba looks back at him, carefully arranging his face into a mask of innocence.

"That was off, Kyoutani-kun," he says, lilting his voice in the way he knows Kyoutani hates.

"Fuck you," Kyoutani grumbles, but he goes to retrieve the ball, bringing it back over to throw it to Yahaba.

They go back and forth like this for a little while, with Yahaba tossing and Kyoutani receiving, and Yahaba can tell that Kyoutani is beginning to relax, his features no longer as tense. Time flies and before he knows it, Coach Irihata is calling for the end of practice. He watches as Kyoutani immediately stiffens, his shoulders hunching, as his scowl appears. Biting his lip, Yahaba reaches out to lightly touch Kyoutani's arm.

"Do you want to stay late and practice some more? I'll toss to you," he offers.

Kyoutani narrows his eyes at him, as if expecting a catch. Yahaba keeps his expression neutral, ignoring the pang in his chest at the thought of Kyoutani unable to believe a friendly offer doesn't come with caveats. But Kyoutani nods then, and Yahaba goes to ask Coach Irihata if they can leave the net up, promising he'll put them away correctly when they're done.

The rest of the team file out, and Watari waves to Yahaba with a knowing grin. Yahaba rolls his eyes but glances at Kyoutani out of his peripheral. The other boy is standing with his hands shoved into his shorts at the sides, a poor substitute for pockets, scowling at the gym floor. Once everyone is gone, Yahaba lightly throws a volleyball at Kyoutani. With surprisingly quick reflexes, Kyoutani turns and catches it before it can hit him.

"Let's practice," Yahaba says, offering him a grin.

Kyoutani's lips twitch in what might be a smile, but he quickly readjusts his expression to his normal grumpy one, throwing the volleyball back at Yahaba. Yahaba quickly gets beneath it and sets it into the air. Kyoutani's eyes widen, but he runs and leaps up, smacking the ball over the net with all his strength. It hits the floor in-bounds, and Kyoutani lands with a satisfied look. They continue like this, and Yahaba can tell that Kyoutani is enjoying himself. The lines of his face are relaxed, even as he's frowning in concentration. He's not skittish or guarded. He's spiking with everything he has as if it's a real game.

Yahaba likes that about him. Kyoutani always gives his all, 100%, even when others might slack off for various reasons. Kyoutani plays with his whole heart, and while he used to be reckless and unpredictable, Yahaba has noticed his improvement in playing with his teammates instead of on his own. It makes him feel proud, though he knows it's probably not because of him.

Then again, it all _did_ start after he slammed Kyoutani up against the wall at the tournament and yelled at him.

"Hey. You okay?"

Yahaba starts, realizing that he's drifted off into his thoughts while holding onto the volleyball. Kyoutani stands by the net, waiting for Yahaba to toss it. He does, quickly, and Kyoutani leaps, arm stretching back. Yahaba catches a glimpse of his stomach, the strong muscles of his abdomen stretching as his back arcs, and then he slams his hand forward, connecting with the ball with a loud _pow_ that echoes off the walls of the empty gym. Yahaba swallows hard, as Kyoutani lands, his shirt falling back into place. 

He turns to look at Yahaba expectantly, and it takes Yahaba a moment to realize that the spike was the fastest and most powerful one yet. He smiles and claps lightly.

"Nice kill," he says appreciatively.

The tips of Kyoutani's ears glow pink, but Yahaba tries not to focus on that. He glances at the clock instead, grimacing at the time.

"We should pack up. It's past dinnertime. My mom's going to throw a fit. She's probably already tried to call me about ten times." He laughs, but it dies on his lips, as he looks over at Kyoutani and sees the desperation in his dark eyes.

"One more," he says, his voice gruff.

Yahaba hesitates. "I really need to be getting home . . ."

Kyoutani steps closer, and Yahaba glances at the healing scab beside his eye. His stomach twists, and Kyoutani's gaze bores through him, intense and pleading.

"One more," he says again, softer than before.

Yahaba chews on the inside of his cheek, wondering how much his mother will kill him if he brings home a stray. He reaches out to touch Kyoutani's arm lightly, watching his expression closely. Kyoutani looks down at his hand but doesn't move away.

"If you want, since it's late you can come over to my place for dinner and stay the night," he offers slowly.

Kyoutani frowns, his gaze snapping up. His eyes burn with indignation. "What are you trying to do?" he asks defensively, stepping out of reach.

"Uh, invite you over?" Yahaba says, wondering what part of that Kyoutani didn't understand.

"Why? Because you feel sorry for me?" Kyoutani asks hotly, his hands curling into fists. "Poor Kyoutani-kun doesn't want to go home so I'll take pity on him and invite him over?"

"Will you stop putting words in my mouth?" Yahaba asks, frowning. "I'm asking you over because I enjoy spending time with you. Is that so difficult to believe?" He meant to lie. He knows he's inviting Kyoutani over so the guy doesn't have to go home, and although he does feel pity for Kyoutani's situation, that's not the full reason. He feels the urge to protect his teammate, to give him a safe place to go where he isn't scared or hurt. But of course he can't _say_ that to Kyoutani. So instead he went with something that's also true but seemed less risky at the time.

But from the way Kyoutani's eyes widen, he's not so sure that the words he decided on were any less risky.

"You're fucking with me," Kyoutani says, quickly frowning again with a shake of his head. "There's no way--"

"What? There's no way anyone could enjoy hanging out with you? Do you seriously think so little of yourself?"

"You hate me," Kyoutani mutters, glaring at the floor.

"I don't hate you," Yahaba says immediately, perhaps too quickly. But he stands firm, keeping his eyes fixed on the top of Kyoutani's head until he lifts it slowly.

"You don't?" Kyoutani asks, sounding honestly perplexed.

"Just come to dinner, okay? We'll sort the rest out later." 

Yahaba turns away to begin picking up the volleyballs, setting them back in the cart. After a moment, Kyoutani joins him, working quietly beside him. Neither of them say anything until they've put everything away in the equipment room. As they turn toward the club room to get changed, Yahaba feels a hand on his arm, its touch hesitant. He glances over to see Kyoutani frowning at the floor.

"I'll come to dinner."

"Great," Yahaba says, smiling. "I'll let my mom know."

As they get changed and Yahaba texts his mother, he can't help but feel warm inside. He recognizes the feeling as happiness, and inwardly he groans.

_I've got it bad, don't I?_

He looks over at Kyoutani, who has his back to him as he changes. There are scars on his back, faded cuts and bruises that can't have come from playing volleyball. Yahaba wants to touch that strong, muscular back. To run his fingers soothingly up and down Kyoutani's spine, while holding the boy close. He wants Kyoutani to feel safe, to not fear his touch or anyone else's.

It's going to take a while, he knows, but he's already grown more patient toward Kyoutani, and it's been established that he enjoys being with him.

Yahaba doesn't think he'll mind devoting more of his time to him. And hopefully, Kyoutani will let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WILL I END WITH THE NEXT CHAPTER??? IDK!!!!
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the encouraging words and for all the kudos! I really wasn't expecting it. Stay beautiful, lovelies! <3
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The first word that comes to Kyoutani's mind when he steps across the threshold into Yahaba's house is "safe." He's not sure why, but it feels like stepping into a warm cottage after spending all day in the snow. The lights aren't too bright, and there's violin music playing from somewhere. It feels cozy, comfortable. And as Kyoutani kicks off his shoes at the door and mutters a "sorry for the intrusion," he feels like an outsider.

He curls his hands into fists, shoving them into the pockets of his school uniform, afraid to touch anything, afraid to ruin this homey atmosphere.

Yahaba touches his elbow, a light brush of his fingers meant to draw Kyoutani's attention. He's proud of himself for not flinching (though he finds himself growing more comfortable around Yahaba these days. He's not sure why, exactly, but he feels like he can trust him. It's a nice feeling).

"This way," Yahaba says, removing his fingers to gesture toward the kitchen.

Kyoutani follows him, shuffling along behind and trying to ignore the way his nerves are sparking, sending panic into his chest. He knows he's about to meet Yahaba's family, and he can't help but think they're going to hate him. He wouldn't blame them if they do. He's not a huge fan himself.

But a small part of him hopes they don't.

Yahaba leads him into the kitchen where two women are. One of them is obviously Yahaba's mother. She's standing at the stove wearing an apron, her long brown hair up in a bun held together with two pencils. When she looks up, Kyoutani can see she has Yahaba's eyes. And when she smiles, he sees Yahaba's dimple.

He clenches his fists tighter.

"Shigeru! You're finally home," she says with a smile, kissing her son's cheek as he steps up to greet her.

"Sorry, Okaasan. Practice went late." He turns then, beckoning Kyoutani forward. "This is Kyoutani Kentarou, my teammate. Kyoutani, this is my mother, Yahaba Hikari."

Kyoutani bows deeply, fighting a blush at the kind smile Hikari gives him. "Nice to meet you," he mumbles.

"It's nice to meet you too, Kentarou-kun," Hikari says, as he straightens. "It's nice to see more of my son's friends. Shinji-kun is the only one who visits." She gives Yahaba a pointed look.

"Anyway, this is my older sister, Mizuki," Yahaba says, skirting over to the table to gesture to the girl sitting there. She has what appears to be a textbook in front of her, and she lifts her head to give Kyoutani a small wave and smile. She has the Yahaba dimple too.

Kyoutani bows again.

"It's nice to finally meet the infamous Kyoutani," Mizuki says with a grin. She turns to give Yahaba a small punch to the side. "You didn't tell me he was so handsome, Shigeru."

Kyoutani's face burns, as Yahaba coughs and leaps out of reach. "You're both horrible," he complains. "We're going to go study in my room." He makes his way over to Kyoutani, tugging on his sleeve. "Come on."

Kyoutani feels a bit like he just rammed his head into a wall. He's lightheaded and confused, and it takes all his concentration not to stumble over his own feet as Yahaba leads him out of the kitchen and toward a flight of stairs. He's not sure what to make of this new information. Yahaba's sister made it seem like Yahaba talked about him. Why would he talk about him?

 _Probably to complain about how much of an asshole you are_ , his brain supplies helpfully.

Kyoutani scowls.

Yahaba's room is the second door to the left at the top of the stairs, and the inside looks like a normal teenage boy's room, though noticeably neater than Kyoutani's own room. Yahaba's bed is made, and the floor is clean. There's no piles of clothes or crumpled pages of homework or magazines. There's a bookshelf neatly organized, a desk on which sits a laptop, notebooks, and a pencil case, and a line of weights stacked beneath the window. The walls are bare, save for a shelf of small trophies and a cork-board above the desk which holds notes and various photographs. When Kyoutani moves closer, he can see that the photos are of the team, as well as Yahaba's own family.

There's one picture of Yahaba's family that stands out to him. It must have been taken around Christmas, because they're beneath sparkling lights, bundled up in coats and scarves. Yahaba looks a few years younger, grinning widely at the camera. His sister's arm is around him, and she's smiling too, throwing up a peace sign with the other hand. Behind them are their parents, Hikari looking soft and loving, and beside her is Yahaba's father. The lines in his face show years of hard work and stress, but in the photo he looks content, happy to be with his family. His arms are wrapped around his wife and Yahaba, and there are small crinkles around his eyes as he smiles.

He looks nice. Pleasant. Kyoutani wonders briefly if he's truly like that. He wonders if Yahaba's father has ever yelled, broken something in anger, lifted a hand against his family. His stomach feels tight, coiling anxiously. He hopes not. He hopes the man is as kind as he looks. But Kyoutani knows better than anyone that looks can be deceiving.

"That was a couple years ago," Yahaba says at his elbow.

Kyoutani jolts out of his reverie, glancing to the side to look up into Yahaba's face. He studies Yahaba's profile, but he doesn't seem sad or nervous. He's smiling faintly, that dimple pressing into his cheek. Kyoutani resists the urge to poke at it.

"My dad works a lot," Yahaba admits. "So we don't see him often. Family outings like that are rare but always fun."

"So you like your dad?" Kyoutani asks, his throat tight.

Yahaba glances at him, eyebrows raised. Kyoutani tenses, preparing himself for some snarky comment. But then Yahaba tilts his head, features softening.

"Yeah, he's pretty great," he says. He turns back to the board then, pointing at one of the photographs of the team. "Look, there's you."

Kyoutani looks, frowning faintly. It's a photograph taken during practice, so they're all on the court. They're in various positions of stretching and talking during a lull, and when he follows Yahaba's finger he sees himself, bent at the waist with his hands on his knees, scowling at Yahaba, who's laughing at something Watari must've said.

"You really hated me, huh?" Yahaba teases, lowering his hand.

Kyoutani turns away from the photo, remembering that day and the reason why he'd been glaring at Yahaba. It wasn't a look of hate. But he can't bring himself to explain, so he simply shrugs, scratching behind his ear, as he glancing around the room.

"You said we were going to study," he says pointedly.

"Oh, right." Yahaba steps away from the desk, grabbing his bag and sitting on the floor to pull out his textbooks and notebooks. Kyoutani does the same, sitting across from Yahaba gingerly. He watches Yahaba's hands, as they spread out the notebooks and pens. His fingers are long, slender, yet Kyoutani knows how strong they are. Yahaba's getting better at throwing tosses all the time. It shows in the callouses on his fingertips, though they're not nearly as pronounced as Kyoutani's own.

Very briefly, Kyoutani allows himself to remember how those fingers feel on his face, touching him lightly as they apply his eyeliner with careful precision. He's grown accustomed to Yahaba's hands, no longer fears them. They always handle him gently, with care; it's something he's not used to, and he's beginning to crave that touch more often. It's embarrassing and stupid, but he can't seem to stop. He's tried.

"Do you want to start with English or Maths?" Yahaba asks, looking up at Kyoutani and startling him once more out of his thoughts.

"English," Kyoutani says promptly. That requires more of his concentration, so he figures he'll be able to distract himself from these intrusive and unwanted desires.

Yahaba nods, and for the next thirty minutes they work together on translating a passage from Japanese to English, Yahaba helping to correct his grammar in places, Kyoutani pointing out misspellings in others. It's peaceful, the violin music wafting up from downstairs to add to the tranquil atmosphere. The calm is broken, however, when Mizuki barges in, flinging the door open wide with such abruptness, Kyoutani has to wonder if she expected to walk in or something.

"Oh, you're just studying," she says, pouting faintly. Kyoutani blinks at her, guessing he'd been right.

"What else would we be doing?" Yahaba asks, rolling his eyes.

"Dinner's ready," Mizuki says. "Okaasan says you have to bring your friend to eat downstairs with us."

"Okay, okay," Yahaba says, standing and stretching his arms up over his head.

Kyoutani follows more slowly. As they leave the room, he has to shuffle past Mizuki, which he tries to do without touching her. But suddenly she grabs his arm, turning him to her. He flinches automatically, but she's studying his eyes closely, grinning faintly.

"Are you wearing eyeliner?" she asks.

"Yeah," Kyoutani says warily, pulling his arm carefully out of her grip.

"You're using a pencil, right? I can see the smudging. You should try liquid liner! It's much smoother."

Kyoutani blinks, as Yahaba stifles a laugh behind his hand. "Uh."

"I have some! If you want we can try it out after dinner, okay?" Mizuki's grin widens, and Kyoutani can't really find it in him to say no when she and everyone else in Yahaba's family so far has been so nice to him.

He's a little overwhelmed, honestly.

The food is amazing. He's pretty sure he hasn't tasted anything this good in a while. He tries to cook for himself and his dad, but he doesn't always have enough time and most days he and his dad end up eating microwavable TV dinners. Often he has to grab some Kara Age Kun between school and practice if he wants to eat that day. He likes it, but it does grow old sometimes.

But Hikari's cooking is incredible, and he finds himself scarfing everything down and even grabbing some seconds (after it's offered to him). He feels a little embarrassed, especially when he catches Yahaba watching him at one point during the meal. Kyoutani frowns at him, sending a silent "what" across the table. But all Yahaba does is return to his food without a word, leaving Kyoutani feeling like he missed something.

After dinner, Mizuki does bring her makeup kit into Yahaba's room, sitting Kyoutani down on the edge of the bed and standing in front of him. Yahaba takes a seat at his desk, resting his arm over the back of his chair and grinning over at them.

"Don't say a fucking word," Kyoutani growls, pointing at Yahaba without turning his head, as Mizuki has his chin firmly between her fingers.

"I wasn't going to," Yahaba says, though Kyoutani can hear the laugh in his voice.

He bristles, but remains still, as Mizuki carefully wipes away the old liner and then begins to apply the new one. "It takes some getting used to," she admits. "But it's much nicer and I think it's easier to apply once you get the hang of it. You know, you have really nice eyes Kentarou-kun."

Kyoutani swallows hard, not sure what to say to that. His ears burn, and he sort of feels like he's choking, but all he can do is mutter a small "thank you," lips barely moving. He feels her thumb press between his eyebrows, smoothing the wrinkled skin there.

"You shouldn't scowl so much. You're going to get premature wrinkles."

All he can do is nod wordlessly. Yahaba quips from his seat "I tell him that all the time!" and Kyoutani lifts his hand again, this time in order to flip Yahaba off. He laughs, and Mizuki chuckles as well. She steps back after a moment with a satisfied nod.

"There you go! That's much better. Here you can have this liner. I've got plenty. Make sure you screw the lid on well after each use. It should hold throughout your practice and games, but you might have to touch it up some after. I can give you some remover too. Just stop by my room before you go, okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks," Kyoutani mumbles.

She leaves with a small wave. Kyoutani looks down at the liner she placed in his hand, curling his fingers around it. He'll have to find some place to hide it where his dad won't find it. He's really not looking forward to getting an ass-kicking over this. He reminds himself to make sure he gets that remover.

Yahaba's strangely quiet, so Kyoutani looks over at him, frowning. Yahaba's chin is on his arm, and he's regarding Kyoutani thoughtfully, head leaning just slightly to the side. Kyoutani feels warm, his heart pounding a little faster at the scrutiny. He sharpens his gaze, glaring harder.

"What?" he demands, standing and putting the liner into his pocket.

"Nothing," Yahaba says absently, moving to stand as well. "You look nice." He smiles, dimple appearing, and Kyoutani grunts in response.

"Shall we continue?" Yahaba asks, gesturing to the homework still littering the floor.

Kyoutani drops down, crossing his legs. Yahaba settles in his same spot from before and they resume, moving on to Maths. It's a subject Kyoutani is pretty good at, and Yahaba complains at how quickly and accurately Kyoutani's able to solve the problems while he struggles. Kyoutani can't help but smirk, lightly teasing him that maybe he'd do better if he didn't suck so much. Yahaba laughs and the atmosphere is comfortable, friendly. Kyoutani finds himself starting to relax more, loosen his shoulders, scowl less. It's a nice feeling to not be on one's guard all the time.

Near the end of their worksheets, however, Kyoutani feels something irritating his eye. He tries to blink it away, but whatever it is seems stuck. He lifts his hand to rub at it, but Yahaba reaches across to grab his wrist, quick as a snake attacking. He latches on firmly, holding Kyoutani's hand away from his face.

"Nee-chan will kill you if you mess up her work," Yahaba says, shaking his head. "Let me see."

He pushes their homework out of the way, moving closer to kneel directly in front of Kyoutani. If it wasn't for the pain in his eye, Kyoutani would be leaning away, the proximity causing his skin to tingle, heat spreading quickly through him as his heart beats faster. Gentle as ever, Yahaba prods at his eye until Kyoutani opens it, though it waters.

"It's an eyelash," Yahaba says quietly. "Hold still."

Kyoutani is pretty sure he couldn't move even if he wanted to. He's completely frozen, staring at Yahaba's face inches from his own. His chest aches and he's pretty sure he's not breathing. But he can't just exhale into Yahaba's face. His breath probably smells like the beef they had for dinner and that can't be a pleasant scent. So he sits there, quivering, lungs burning, as Yahaba pokes cautiously into his eye to retrieve the lash.

"There," Yahaba says, sitting back on his heels. He grins, holding up his index finger on which sits one of Kyoutani's dark eyelashes. "Got it. And your liner isn't even smudged."

Kyoutani continues to stare, not looking down at the lash Yahaba's presenting to him. He's fixated on the triumphant gleam in Yahaba's eyes, the curve of his smile, the dip in his cheek. He's breathing now, but it still feels strained, his heart hammering loudly in his ears.

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

Yahaba's smile falters, and he lowers his hand. His eyes roll upwards, and he sighs, shaking his head. "Thank you, Yahaba-kun," he says then, dropping his voice to a low register in a poor imitation of Kyoutani's voice. "I don't know what I'd do without you. You saved my--"

Kyoutani doesn't let him finish. He leans forward quickly, too quickly, knocking his forehead against Yahaba's and causing the other boy to fall over in shock. Kyoutani freezes, grimacing. He hadn't meant to do that.

There's red mark on Yahaba's forehead, and he rubs at it with an indignant expression. "What the hell was that for? I just _helped_ you," he gripes.

Kyoutani curls his hands into fists at his knees. "I didn't . . . mean to do that," he grumbles, turning his face away. His ears feel like they're on fire, and he kind of wishes a black hole would appear to suck him away into a void.

"What were you trying to do then?" Yahaba asks, still sounding annoyed as he sits up.

"I-I--" Words once more fail him. Kyoutani shakes his head, pretty sure he can't admit to it. He's an idiot. Stupid. Uncoordinated. Dumbass . . .

"Were you trying to kiss me, Kyoutani-kun?" Yahaba asks softly, almost tentatively, which isn't like Yahaba at all.

Kyoutani turns his head back to glare at Yahaba. "Fuck no," he growls, though from the way his face is burning he's pretty sure Yahaba can see through the lie.

He wants to die. He honestly wants to curl up into a ball and just disappear forever. He can't believe he just tried to kiss Yahaba. And now his teammate is sitting across from him, watching him with a curious expression, like he's not sure how to proceed. He bites his lip, teeth digging in gently to whiten the skin. It's such a small gesture, yet Kyoutani's breath hitches automatically.

Yahaba's eyebrows rise at the noise, and Kyoutani curses inwardly. He's thinking about just standing and running away, when Yahaba moves closer. Slowly, he lifts his hand, setting it against the side of Kyoutani's face. Kyoutani stills, swallowing down the lump in his throat, as Yahaba's thumb runs along the curve of his cheekbone, leaving fire in its wake. Kyoutani feels queasy, and he curls his fingers into his pants at his knees.

"Is it okay if I kiss you then?" Yahaba asks softly, his wide brown eyes fixed on Kyoutani's face, moving slightly as though searching for something.

Kyoutani exhales shakily, realizing he was holding his breath again. His fingers ache, but he can't seem to relax. He wants to say yes. He's a little ashamed at how badly he wants to say yes. But it feels like this might be a joke. He's waiting for Yahaba to pull away, to laugh and say "sike!" or something equally humiliating. This can't be real, can it? This can't be actually happening.

"You want to kiss me?" he asks, the wires in his brain not connecting.

Yahaba huffs, looking as though he'd like to roll his eyes again, though he doesn't. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," he says pointedly.

Kyoutani has to admit he has a point. He's still cautious, though, still unsure, but he nods his head with a soft "okay" because he's not sure what else to do. And when Yahaba moves closer, practically straddling Kyoutani's lap, he closes his eyes quickly and waits with his pulse thrumming in his ears.

The first brush of Yahaba's lips is light, almost hesitant. It drifts away and then presses again. It feels as though Yahaba is testing him, gauging his responses. Kyoutani realizes that he's sitting stiffly, tense, and that can't be encouraging. So he unclenches his hands from the fabric of his pants, moving them instead to Yahaba's sides. He presses in, pulling him down to sit in his lap instead of awkwardly hovering above it. Yahaba makes a soft noise, and then presses his lips firmly against Kyoutani's.

Yahaba's mouth is warm, soft, and Kyoutani can't help but lean into the touch, his own lips moving now, sliding against Yahaba's as he tilts his head to get a better angle. Yahaba's fingers move up into his hair, scratching the back of his head with his blunt nails, and Kyoutani trembles in response.

His skin feels hot, his heart is racing, but he doesn't stop. He doesn't want to stop. His hands grip Yahaba's sides, curling into his shirt to grasp tightly. He tugs Yahaba closer, even as he leans further against him. He feels desperate, hungry. It's the touch he's been craving, the warmth his body has ached for for so long. Yahaba opens his mouth, his teeth scraping against Kyoutani's lower lip. Kyoutani tries to suppress a whimper, but a noise escapes anyway, something like a whine. It's embarrassing, but Yahaba doesn't laugh at him. In fact, he clutches him tighter, his other hand moving to grab Kyoutani's shoulder.

Tentatively, Kyoutani moves his tongue forward, licking into Yahaba's open mouth. Yahaba meets him with his own tongue, and they're breathing heavily, panting against one another, as the kiss continues. It's only when Kyoutani begins to feel dizzy that he pulls away. His chest shudders at his next inhale, and he keeps his eyes closed as he knocks his forehead lightly against Yahaba's. 

"That . . . that was real, right?" he asks, his voice catching on the lump in his throat.

Yahaba hums softly, turning his head to kiss Kyoutani's cheekbone tenderly. "Of course it was real." He leans back then to look into Kyoutani's face. He places his hands on either side of Kyoutani's head, lifting it so they're forced to meet gazes. Kyoutani blinks at him, not sure why his eyes feel like they're stinging. "This is real, Kyoutani," Yahaba assures him, his voice gentle yet firm. "I . . . I really like you a lot."

"That's weird," Kyoutani blurts out, because it is. It doesn't make sense for Yahaba to like him, especially in this way. Doesn't he know how damaged Kyoutani is? Doesn't he realize how much work he'll be if he stays?

Yahaba just smiles at him, scratching his nails against Kyoutani's scalp once more. "It's not weird," he insists. "Just trust me on this, okay?"

Kyoutani studies him, the sincere expression on his face, the dimple in his cheek. He grunts softly. "Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the end . . . but who knows, honestly? /shrugs into a ball and rolls away
> 
> http://shions-heart.tumblr.com/


End file.
